The plumbing’s been repaired and I’m at a sufficiently lower stress level after having taken care of that situation. But something’s been plaguing me since my return to work. I’ve recently been in a very irritable mood. My subconscious is trying to tell me something, but I can’t interpret the signs. Possibly something less mundane than my current state of being. Something out of the ordinary. It’s probably bad diet.
About 4 years ago, I had this exact same feeling. This was around the time I was still employed at a research company working on an experimental autogyro. So it pops into my head that maybe it would be fun to learn to fly. When I was younger, it was on my list of professions I considered pursuing. I know it sounds boring. What do you expect? I was a boring kid. My boss at the time, who had a pilot’s license, heard about my little whim, and invited me to go with him the next time he went on his monthly flights. I hadn’t signed up for classes at this point, so I agreed. Let me tell you it’s not all glamour when you’re up there. The view certainly didn’t justify me paying a few thousand dollars to learn how to fly. Sure the view is nice, but you’re enclosed in the cockpit of a prop-driven plane that’s even smaller than an outhouse. Now imagine two people in that undersized outhouse on its side with wings. On top of that the plane rental is fairly hefty, and that you had to maintain “hours” in the air to keep that license. You also had to maintain near perfect health if you wanted to keep that license. Well, the dream didn’t match reality after all. Reality is a complete disappointment. After that little experience, I should just politely listen to my subconscious and then promptly ignore it.